Kristy stood, peering into a world of drizzling Rain.
“What did she do?” asked Kristy.
“She turned and ran back into the house, held up her ruined dress for her mother to see, and then flung herself on the lounge with a burst of tears. Her mother had to go out and tell the girls that Bessie could not go.”
“That was horrid!” said Kristy earnestly; “but why was she glad, for you said she was?”
“She was, indeed; for an hour later her father drove up to the door and said that he was obliged to go to the city on business, and if Bessie could be ready in fifteen minutes, he would take her and let her spend a few days with her cousin Helen, who had been urging her to visit her. This was a great treat, for Bessie had never been to a large city, and there was nothing she wanted so much to do. You see, if she had been away at the party, she would have missed this pleasure, for her father could not wait longer. She forgot her disappointment in a moment, and hurried to get ready, while her mother packed a satchel with things she would need.”
By this time Kristy was seated close by her mother, eagerly interested in the story.
Mrs. Crawford paused.
“Do go on, mamma,” said Kristy; “tell me more about her. Did she have a nice time in the city?”
“She did,” went on Mrs. Crawford; “so nice that her father was persuaded to leave her there, and she stayed more than a week. There was one scrape, however, that the girls got into that was not so very nice.”